


Meddling with Marauders

by HeyMrsPotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyMrsPotter/pseuds/HeyMrsPotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dangerous things have happened to wizards and witches who meddle with time.</p>
<p>Falling in love with Sirius Black was a dangerous thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Time-Turner

_Prologue._  
  
“It’s Time,” Hermione whispered. “ _Time._ ”  
  
 She stared at the grotesque figure; the baby’s head on a man’s body, for a second longer before tearing her eyes away, looking frantically around the room. Time was valuable, and there had to be something in there that could help them escape from the nearing Death Eaters.  
  
That was when she saw them: the Time-Turners. But there was something wrong with them. The counter they lay on tipped suddenly, as though an invisible force had knocked it over, and the collection fell almost to the floor.  _Almost_ because before they could get there, the counter was upright and they were back in their place. Hermione watched as the counter tipped and the necklaces fell again. They were stuck in an endless cycle of falling and falling again.  
   
All of them…except one.  
  
One Time-Turner lay haphazardly on the floor, right next to Harry’s left foot. Of course, he hadn’t noticed it; he and Neville were still transfixed on the strange man-baby. She ducked down and grabbed it, opening her mouth to tell Harry of her discovery. However, the words didn’t come, for she was interrupted by a crashing sound and a scream that had come not from her still-open mouth, but from the distance.  
  
 _From Ron._  
  
Harry called out for their friends and Hermione yelled Harry’s name to alert him to the fact that the Death Eater had managed to remove the bell jar from his head, and was now flailing his arms around narrowly missing Harry.  
   
Harry pointed his wand at the odd figure, his words forming the beginning of a spell, but Hermione grabbed his arm in disbelief.  
  
“You can’t hurt a baby!” she scolded. Harry readied himself to argue but the approaching footsteps stopped him. He ran toward the exit, yelling for Hermione and Neville to follow. Hermione pocketed the Time-Turner before running after the two boys.  
  
Fear and adrenaline coursed through Hermione as they raced through the dark corridor of the Department of Mystery, as Harry dragged her into one of the offices to escape from yet more of Voldemort’s followers.  Their freedom from the Death Eaters was short –lived, however, as two of them burst into the room before Hermione had a chance to finish casting the colloportus spell on the door. She, Harry, and Neville were violently thrown backwards. Hermione did not see where Neville and Harry had landed, for a shower of books fell on her as soon as she impacted with the case, causing every cell in her body to ache.  
  
“WE’VE GOT HIM! IN AN OFFICE OFF-“ one of the men began, but Hermione was too quick with her silencing spell as she struggled to her feet once more.  
  
Harry hit the other Death Eater with an excellent body-bind hex and Hermione couldn’t help but congratulate him. Or so he had tried to, but the silenced man had taken advantage of her momentary distraction. She saw the swooshing action he made with his wand before everything turned black.


	2. Too Little, Too Late

Pain.  
  
  
Her whole body was pain. There were no other feelings or sensations. She opened her eyes and even that tiny action hurt. One look at the ceiling told her she was in the Hospital Wing; she had been there more times than she cared to count.  
  
“Hermione?” a timid voice came from her left hand side. She did not need to look to know that it was Ron. “Hermione, are you okay?”  
  
She gave the smallest nod of her head and heard Ron breathe a sigh of relief before calling out, “Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey, she’s awake!”  
  
The stern matron came out of her office immediately, pulling her wand out of the front of her apron and mumbling about ‘teenagers thinking they can duel adults and not come out of it worse for wear.’ Hermione heard her footsteps approach the bed she lay in and then stop, Madame Pomfrey’s irritable face appearing over her.   
  
“Miss Granger, I’m going to need you to sit up in order to give you your pain relief potion. It will undoubtedly hurt, you have no broken bones, heaven knows how not, but that was a nasty jinx you were hit with. The potion will take effect as soon as you drink it, so no time like the present!” And with that, she pulled Hermione’s arm around her neck and heaved her into a sitting position. Hermione gritted her teeth in agony, a tear rolling down her cheek. She willed her mouth to open and let the matron pour a foul-smelling burnt orange coloured potion down her throat.   
  
As promised, the pain instantly dulled. Hermione’s body was extremely weak and she felt more exhausted than she had ever felt in her life, but she hurt less and for that, she could have kissed Madame Pomfrey. She settled on a quiet ‘thank you’ before collapsing back into the soft pillows.   
  
Madame Pomfrey turned the corners of her mouth up into a small smile for Hermione before her usual stern expression returned. “There’s more where that came from, and another nine you’ll have to take throughout the day. Now, however, sleep is the best medicine for you.”  
  
With that, she retreated back into her office, mumbling once again. As soon as her door clicked shut, Hermione turned to face Ron for the first time since waking.  
  
“Where’s Ha-“ she began, because although the beds in the Hospital Wing were almost all full, she could not see her other best friend. The state of Ron’s arms stopped her question, however. Deep welts covered him from wrist to shoulder. They were a pale pink shade, which suggested that they were currently under Madame Pomfrey’s excellent supervision, but looked dreadful nonetheless.   
  
“Your arms!” she gasped. “What happened?”  
  
“Brains,” Ron replied, as if this fully explained the matter. When Hermione raised her eyebrows, he added, “Remember there was a tank of them in one of the rooms we went in? We ended up in there again after you’d been cursed. The Death Eaters hit me with this weird spell, made me go all funny, and I summoned them from the tank. Those tentacles coming from them wrapped themselves around my arms.” He shrugged. “Madam Pomfrey said it was something to do with thoughts leaving deep scars. She’s been putting this lotion on that seems to be working though.”  
  
“And Harry? Where’s Harry?” Hermione asked now that she knew Ron was alright, holding her breath for his answer.  
  
“He’s with Dumbledore. Reckon he’ll be a while…” he trailed off and picked at a thread on the sheet covering him, and Hermione knew in that moment that there was something he was not telling her.  
  
“Ron? Ron, what’s happened? What aren’t you telling me? Harry is okay isn’t he?”  
  
“Physically, he’s fine. It’s just, er… Lupin brought us all here, to make sure we were alright, y’know?” He gestured to the other beds, where Ginny, Neville and Luna were sleeping. “Madame Pomfrey insisted they rested here for a bit, she said they can go when they wake up but we’ve got to stay here longer…”  
  
“Ron Weasley, tell me what is going on this instant!” Hermione demanded sitting up as much as her ribs would allow.  
  
“It’s Sirius, Hermione. Sirius is gone… Bellatrix hit him with the killing curse and he fell through that veil thing. He’s dead.”  
  
His words hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. Sirius could not be dead; Ron must be mistaken. Maybe the Death Eater’s spell or the brains were still confusing him. That had to be it. Life would not be so cruel to take Sirius away from Harry after they had known each other for such a short time.   
  
“No,” she said firmly. “That’s not right, you must still be confused, Ron. I’ll have Madame Pomfrey come and take another look at you.”  
  
Ron shook his head and slowly got up from his bed and made his way over to Hermione’s. He perched himself on the edge of it and took her hand. Even in the bright early morning light that filled the Hospital Wing he looked pale. “I wish I was. You should have seen Lupin when he told me…” he paused and shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the memory. “Harry’s been with Dumbledore for ages…well over an hour. What will we say when we see him, Hermione?”  
  
She shrugged feebly, ignoring the ache that the action caused in her chest. For once Hermione did not have the answer. Tears fell silently down her face as she accepted the horrible truth; Sirius had gone.   
  
She freed her hand from Ron and wiped her nose on her sleeve in an unladylike fashion, idly noticing her clothes were unchanged, but no longer covered in the dust and grime from the rooms in the depth of the Department of Mysteries. It was undoubtedly the work of Madame Pomfrey, who would never have let Hermione lie in one of her beds covered in filth. Ron awkwardly patted Hermione on the back in what she knew was meant to be a comforting action, and though it caused a spasm of pain each time, she didn’t protest.   
  
They sat together that way for a while longer, in which time Madame Pomfrey visited Neville, Luna and Ginny’s beds. She returned to her office, content that the three were sleeping, but with a silent disapproving glare at Ron and Hermione for being awake.   
  
Shortly after, the Hospital Wing doors swung open and a forlorn-looking Harry entered.  
Hermione gasped, and she and Ron both exclaimed, “Harry!   
  
“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry…” Hermione used Ron’s leg to lean on and try to push herself off the bed but he pushed her back down as Harry bolted forward and sat on the brown armchair between his friends’ beds. Ron stood up and returned to his own bed.  
  
“Don’t get up, Hermione. How are you? That spell you got hit with looked horrible, I thought you were…” Harry trailed off and hung his head.   
  
“I’m fine, Madame Pomfrey is giving me a potion that’s helping. Never mind me, how are you? Ron told me about Si-“  
  
“Stop,” Harry cut her off. “Please, don’t. I don’t want to talk about him.”  
  
“Okay, Harry. But you’ll have to sometime,” she warned him. “Don’t just bottle everything up, please.”  
  
She knew that the last thing Harry needed was her nagging, but the memories of the way he had been way back in the summer holidays when he had finally been allowed to join them at Grimmauld place were still fresh in her head. Harry keeping things tohimself never ended well.   
  
“Hermione’s right, mate. I don’t think any of us want another year of you shouting at us every five minutes.” Ron added, trying to lighten the mood.   
  
Harry gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders and Hermione said nothing more on the matter. A silence fell over the group for a long time, in which Ron fell asleep. It was finally broken by the hospital wing doors swinging open, followed by a squat figure being levitated through them. Professor Snape and Dumbledore followed the figure, the latter with his wand stretched out in front of him. Hermione shrunk down a little further in her bed, and she saw Harry out of the corner of her eye leaning back a little into the curtain that was gathered behind his chair. She noticed Dumbledore glance over to their beds and give the tiniest of winks before turning back to Professor Snape.  
  
“Severus, please fetch Madame Pomfrey and tell her that I have located Dolores. She seems uninjured for the most part but I suspect she will need a calming potion when the stunning spell lifts. I do wish she hadn’t fought so much against me helping her…”  
  
Hermione knew she ought to feel relief that Umbridge had been saved from the angry centaurs, or even guilty that it had been her fault they had taken her in the first place, but a loud voice in her head told her that the wretched woman had gotten everything she deserved.  
  
She and Harry watched Dumbledore lower Umbridge on to an empty bed at the far end of the room. Madame Pomfrey joined them, and Hermione could have sworn she heard her ask Dumbledore in a low whisper if waking her up was necessary. When the stunning spell was lifted, Umbridge immediately began to struggle, yelling about half-breeds and the Minister for Magic and demanding she be given her wand. It took both Dumbledore and Snape to restrain her long enough for Madam Pomfrey to pour the golden calming potion into her mouth, and thankfully it took effect immediately. She slumped back onto the pillows and to Hermione’s amusement, began snoring louder than Ron.   
  
She turned to Harry to pass comment on the noise, and was surprised to see him slouched in the armchair, fast asleep. He looked uncomfortable, and his troubled thoughts were evident in the way he was frowning and his forehead was lined even in slumber, but Hermione did not wake him to tell him to at least climb into one of the spare beds. An uncomfortable sleep was better than none after all.  
  
Hermione rested her head back on her pillow, taking shallow breathes to try and ease the lingering pain in her ribs, and before long her eyes became too heavy to keep open. She closed them and succumbed to the exhaustion she had been trying to fight since she first woke up.  
  


* * *

  
  
A loud snore from Ron woke Hermione up with a start. She looked over to his bed to see him lying on his back, his head turned towards her and his mouth wide open. In the seat between their beds, Harry was still sleeping, too. Hermione hadn’t intended to fall asleep but the exhaustion from the days’ events had finally caught up to her. She turned on her side slowly, trying to get herself comfortable enough to go back to sleep, but something dug into her pocket at her hip and she quickly turned back.  
  
  
She reached into her pocket, and realised as soon as her fingers brushed the hard metal object exactly what had caused her discomfort. She pulled the stolen Time-Turner out and held it in both hands after scanning the room to check Madam Pomfrey wasn't there. How could she have forgotten about it? So much had happened through the night; it was natural that she had pushed it to the back of her mind, especially with the curse she had suffered and Sirius…  
  
Sirius! She glanced at her wrist and was dismayed to see her watch missing. A frantic search through the drawers of her bedside table led her to the silver wristwatch, which told her it was almost lunchtime.  
  
She was too late.  
  
When Hermione had been given a Time-Turner in her third year, Professor McGonagall had spent a great deal of time explaining the rules and risks of time travel. She had shared plenty of horror stories to scare Hermione into only ever using it for her studies, and at the time Hermione had found it preposterous that she would ever consider using it for anything else. Now, however, Hermione was cursing herself that she had missed her opportunity to use it to save Sirius. Five hours, Professor McGonagall had told her; that was the furthest amount of time a person could go back with using a Time-Turner. Any longer than that and there was too high a risk that one could change significant events in time, or to the time traveller themselves. The fact had come as a result of Hermione asking the obvious question of why no-one had used the devices to go back and stop Voldemort in his first rise to power.   
  
It had been well over five hours since Sirius died, and though Hermione had no clue what she would have done to prevent his death when the idea first occurred to her, she felt annoyed with herself nonetheless. A fresh wave of injustice washed over her in the quiet Hospital Wing, it was awful for Harry to lose Sirius after such a short time with him. She wished she had remembered the Time-Turner as soon as she’d woken the first time, and at least had the chance to try and save Sirius.  
  
She shoved her watch and the time turner back in the bedside table and slammed the drawer closed in frustration, vowing to put it in the bottom of her trunk and forget about it as soon as she could. The slamming sound made Ron jump slightly, and mumble something about brains before he rolled over and began to snore again. 


	3. Opportunity Arises

Silent tears rolled down Hermione’s face as she listened to the Phoenix song. It was everywhere. It hung in the air as heavily as grief did. Grief for Dumbledore, who couldn’t possibly be dead. But Harry had seen it happen, and so it must be true.   
  
It all happened so fast. One minute Hermione had been in the library, determined to find out who the illustrious Half-Blood Prince was, the next Harry was leaving to find a Horcrux with…   
Everything had changed and barely four hours had passed.  
  
 _Barely four hours._  
  
Hermione sat up abruptly. “Harry, how long ago did you get back?” She chose her words carefully so as not to give away too much information about Harry’s monumental task to the group.  
  
Harry glanced at his watch, “I dunno. About an hour or so. Why?”  
  
With not another word to the group, Hermione leapt out of the hard plastic chair she had been sitting on and ran out of the Hospital Wing doors, ignoring the numerous calls of her name.  
  
 _There was still time._  
  
She reached the portrait of the Fat Lady in record time. “Quid Agis!” she gasped, and the picture swung open far too slowly.  
  
 _She wouldn’t be too late this time._  
  
In her thankfully empty dormitory, Hermione threw open the lid of her trunk and delved into the bottom of it. Finally she found the item she sought. The stolen Time-Turner.  
  
She had promised herself that she would only ever use it if an emergency arose. Surely the death of the greatest wizard ever known could be classified as such? She could fix it. She could stop Snape, tell Dumbledore to leave,  _do anything_  that would mean he was still alive. She had been too late to save Sirius but this time would be different.   
  
Mind made up, she ran back down the stairs, ignoring the Fat Lady’s tuts of annoyance. She needed to be close to the Astronomy Tower, but somewhere that she would be out of sight so as not to alarm anyone who might have been around three hours ago. That was how she came to find herself in the same Entrance Hall broom cupboard that she and Harry had hidden in three years ago.   
  
She took the stolen pendant out of her pocket as she sat down on a chest containing practice Quidditch balls.   
  
“Here goes nothing…” she whispered to herself as she turned the minute hourglass three times. The all-too-familiar sensation of flying backwards engulfed her, and she squeezed her eyes tightly, waiting for the sensation to pass. Had it always taken this long?   
  
Finally, Hermione felt like the world had stopped spinning. She tucked the Time-Tuner safely in her pocket, pressed an ear to the cupboard door, and listened. It was silent. Three hours ago the Death Eaters would have not yet arrived. She knew that the past version of herself would have been waiting outside of Snape’s office as Harry had instructed her to. She cursed herself again for believing that he was going to help fight the Death Eaters.   
  
She slowly pulled down the door handle until it clicked gently and she pushed the door open a fraction to peer into the Entrance Hall. A voice made her quickly close it again.  
  
“…had to take poor Bertram Aubrey to the hospital wing, head is twice its normal size! One day I’ll be able to teach a Charms lesson with the sixth years and not have Potter and Black mess it up! Rest assured I’ll be speaking to Headmaster Dumbledore about this.”  
  
Hermione pressed her ear to the door a little harder. She thought she had heard Potter and Black, but there was only one Potter in sixth year, and certainly no-one by the name of Black or…Aubrey? The voice had been talking about teaching a Charms lesson but it wasn’t the unmistakeable high pitched tones of Professor Flitwick.   
  
She chanced a glance out of the door again to see two figures retreating into the Great Hall, one that was undoubtedly Professor Slughorn, the other a tall, slim built man whom Hermione did not recognise.   
  
She closed the door again and resumed her seat on the Quidditch chest. Who were they talking about? And who was the man with Professor Slughorn?  
  
She looked around the small cupboard hoping to find some answers, but the spider-less cobwebs were no use to her, nor were the broomsticks they were woven on to. The floor was dusty but otherwise bare. She had no choice but to continue with her original plan of stopping Snape. She would wait until he had convinced her future self that he was going to help, and then stun him. Full of fresh determination, and putting her questions out of her mind, she quietly stepped out of the cupboard.   
  
The entrance way was empty again; chattering and the smell of sausages from the Great Hall told her that most of the school were having dinner. She quickly slipped past the open doors, keeping her head down, and headed down the stairs to Snape’s office in the dungeons. She faintly heard a loud whooping noise from the Hall behind her and quickened her pace.  
  
Much to Hermione’s relief, she met no students on the stairs, and it wasn’t until she was halfway along the dimly lit corridor that she heard a sound at all.   
  
“…off for dinner now, the House Elves have promised sausages and mashed potato would be on the menu, and you know it’s my favourite. Are you sure you won’t join me, Severus?”  
  
It was the unmistakeable voice of Albus Dumbledore, but how was that possible? She had only gone back three hours; Harry and Dumbledore should have left by now. She pulled out the Time-Turner as if it would somehow tell her what was going on, and was horrified to see a long, thin crack right down the hourglass in the centre.   
  
The door up ahead that led to Snape’s office clicked shut and Hermione darted behind a nearby suit of armour, not realising it was already occupied.  
  
“OI!”  
  
She turned to the side and saw the trademark wicked grin of Peeves the Poltergeist. She was done for.  
  
“Sneaky student! Who are you hiding from?” He floated up and hovered above her head.  
  
“Peeves,” she whispered desperately, “please shush, this is really important. I can’t be seen.”  
  
“Can’t be seen, eh? I bet you especially wouldn’t want to be caught sneaking by…PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!” he shouted the last two words and then whizzed down the corridor cackling.   
  
It was too late; Dumbledore was already heading for the suit that Hermione was hiding behind. She would have to abandon her plan to stun Snape, tell Professor Dumbeldore the truth, and hope that he believed her. She took a deep breath and then stepped out from behind the armour, ready to face her Headmaster.  
  
Even in the faint light cast by the flickering torches, Hermione knew something wasn’t right. The Dumbledore that was approaching her with a confused expression on his face looked at least ten years younger. His hair was heavily streaked with white but there was an auburn hint to it that Hermione had never seen before. His eyes twinkled from behind his glasses as usual, but there were far fewer wrinkles around them. He reached into his pocket and slowly brought out his wand, and Hermione noticed that his hand was no longer black and shrivelled.   
  
She looked down at the cracked Time-Turner in her hand before lifting her head again, and speaking to Dumbledore.  
  
“I think I’m in trouble, Professor.”


	4. Meeting Lily Evans

Hermione sat in the chair and looked at both of her hands which were placed in her lap. She had finished explaining her story to Dumbledore, carefully leaving out that he had died several hours ago, and they had now sat in silence for almost five minutes.  
  
She stole a glance at the headmaster. He had his elbows on the desk, fingertips pressed together with his nose resting on his index fingers. His half-moon spectacles were on the desk and his eyes were closed.  
  
Hermione didn’t want to say anything more, but she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Um, Professor Dumbledore, Sir?”  
  
Dumbledore inhaled deeply as though Hermione had just woken him, placed his glasses back on and gave her a piercing stare.   
  
“Apologies, Miss Granger. Your situation is a unique one and does require some thought. It seems I got lost in mine. You understand that the likelihood of you being able to return to your own time is almost non-existent?”  
  
Hermione nodded silently, the lump in her throat aching.  
  
“That is not to say that we won’t try. I shall contact the ministry as soon as you’re settled in,” he said kindly.  
  
“Settled in?” Hermione asked, her expression puzzled.  
  
“Yes, dear. I’m not just going to jolly well leave you here in my office am I? You said you were coming to the end of your sixth year in your time? You can join with our sixth years. We’ll expand the girls’ dormitory in your house and add a bed for you. You can start classes as soon as you are ready, but I’m afraid you’ll be repeating most of the year as classes only began four weeks ago.”  
  
This was no surprise to Hermione, when she had first sat down in Dumbledore’s office she had spotted a copy of the Daily Prophet that told her it was the twenty-ninth of October, 1976. This had caused such a panic in Hermione that Dumbledore had needed to give her a goblet of calming potion before she could explain to him who she was and how she had gotten there.  The effects of the potion were beginning to wear off now and Hermione could feel the nerves creeping back in.   
  
“Join the sixth years? Just pretend like I’m meant to be there and I’m not actually thirty years younger than them all? What on earth will I tell them?”  
  
“We will tell them that you have been home-schooled up to this point. If anyone should ask, your mother is a muggle-born witch and your father is a muggle. The surname Granger isn’t a wizard one, after all.”  
  
Hermione stared at Dumbledore incredulously. “You make it all sound so simple! People are going to ask too many questions. If a random girl came into my dormitory in sixth year, the girls I share with would be all over her like a rash, quizzing her constantly.”  
  
Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “You seem like a smart girl, Miss Granger. Ravenclaw, I presume?"  
  
“Gryffindor,” Hermione replied, almost defensively.  
  
Hmm, the mysteries of the Sorting Hat are ones I will never fathom. The sixth year girls in Gryffindor will be most welcoming. You’ll be with one of the Prefects, Lily Evans, a charming young lady.”  
  
Hermione jumped out of her chair and started pacing. How could she have been so stupid to not think that her staying would mean being around Harry’s parents? Hadn’t she heard Professor Slughorn talking about James and Sirius? And now Dumbledore wanted her to share a dormitory with Harry’s mum.  
  
She placed both of her hands on the desk and looked at her headmaster. “No. Nope. Absolutely not. I  _can’t_ share a dormitory with Lily Evans. Please, Professor, in my time she’s-“  
  
“Don’t!” Professor Dumbledore was also on his feet, both hands stretched in front of him. “Do not say a word. Hermione, this is of utmost importance. No matter who you’re speaking to, you absolutely cannot give anything away about the future. In the unlikely event we manage to return you to your own time you need to know what you’re going back to, and that means nothing can change. You mustn’t meddle in events you know will happen. You told me you’ve used a time-turner before? Then you know the consequences of playing with time travel. Stick to your story. I have the utmost confidence in you, Miss Granger, and my instinct has only failed me once before.”  
  
Hermione composed herself and sat back down in the chair across the table from Dumbledore, who closely watched her every move. She knew he was right, McGonagall had told her stories of when time-travel had gone wrong, and that was when they had only travelled back a few hours. Here she was over twenty years back and faced with an impossible task. She had to tell herself that she would somehow return to her own time, and for her own time to truly be  _hers_ she could not fail. She  _was_ Hermione Granger, the girl who had been home-schooled by her muggle-born mother until now. Now she was new to Hogwarts.  
  
She nodded at Dumbledore who gave her a wide smile. “Excellent. Right, I shall go and explain the situation to Professor McGonagall, our head of Gryffindor-though your expression tells me you already know who she is. She will take you to your dormitory and make the necessary arrangements.  I’ll have a trunk sent up there with clothes, uniform and all of your school supplies. And if I could suggest, a change of clothes for now?”  
  
He checked his watch, before continuing, “It’s just past curfew now so your new peers will be in their dormitories.”   
  
He flicked his wand at the desk and a pair of pyjamas, slippers, and a dressing gown appeared. Hermione looked down wondering what was wrong with her own clothes but quickly realised they would, of course, look extremely odd twenty years ago.  
  
Dumbledore left and Hermione quickly changed into the striped flannel pyjamas he had left for her. She browsed some of the hundreds of books on the shelves behind the desk while she waited for him to return, strongly resisting the urge to pull some of the shelf.  
  
The door clicked open and Hermione quickly turned around. Professor McGonagall entered behind Dumbledore, wearing a floor-length tartan dressing gown and matching slippers. She too looked instantly recognisable but with a few obvious differences; fewer lines around her eyes and her tight bun comprised of black hair rather than grey.  
  
“Good evening, Miss Granger,” she said, approaching Hermione and shaking her hand, “I am Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor house. Professor Dumbledore informs me that the Sorting Hat has placed you in my house?”  
  
“That’s right,” Hermione replied quickly, seeing Dumbledore give a subtle nod behind McGonagall. “It’s nice to meet you, Professor.”  
  
“Come along then, I’ll take you to the Gryffindor common room and introduce you to the girls you’ll be sharing a dormitory with.”  
  
Hermione thanked Dumbledore, who responded with a wink. She followed Professor McGonagall out of the office and back into the familiar halls, ensuring she always stayed behind so as not to give away that she knew the way well.  
  
When they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, she eyed Hermione with a sceptical look. McGonagall did not explain, but simply gave the password.  
  
“Frogspawn."  
  
The familiar sight of the common room had more of a calming effect on Hermione than any potion could, even though she recognised none of the people inside it; people who were now staring at her with very confused expressions. McGonagall paid them as little attention as she had done the Fat Lady. She strode past the sofas and armchairs in front of the fire and to a table at the back near the staircases, approaching a red-haired girl Hermione instantly knew was Lily.  
  
“Miss Evans, a word in your dormitory if I may?”  
  
“Sure, Professor,” she replied as she stood up, casting a sideways glance at Hermione.  
  
The three climbed the staircase to the girls’ dormitories and McGonagall opened the third door along the corridor. Hermione was the last in the room, she closed the door behind her and supressed a giggle when she turned back to see Professor McGonagall eyeing the unmade beds, and the clothes and school books that were scattered across the floor.  
  
“Sorry , Professor,” Lily said quietly, “we weren’t expecting visitors.”  
  
“No matter,” the professor replied. She flicked her wand and the beds made themselves. One more flick and the items on the floor were returned to the trunks at the foot of the beds. With a final few complicated swishes of her wand, Hermione watched as two of the walls moved backwards creating a large space at the back of the room which was quickly filled with a four-poster bed identical to the others in the room.  
  
“Um, Professor, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but what are you doing?” Lily said once the pillows on the bed had stopped plumping themselves up.  
  
“Lily, this is Hermione Granger. She’s a new student who will be joining Gryffindor. She’s going to be in your classes so I’d like you to show her around and help her with anything she might need.”  
  
“Oh! Okay. Hi, Hermione!” she flashed a bright white smile and Hermione felt herself relax a little, perhaps it was something to do with feeling as though she was looking into Harry’s eyes.  
  
“Hi, Lily. I’m sorry to be barging in on your dormitory like this…” Hermione replied.  
  
“Don’t you dare apologise! Cass and Heids will be thrilled to have another girl in here.”  
  
Professor McGonagall thanked Lily at this point, and took her leave, telling Hermione that she would get her timetable to her the following morning as she closed the dormitory door behind her. Lily darted out the door only moments later, returning with two girls.  
  
Cassandra, or Cass as Lily called her, was a petite girl with bobbed black hair. She immediately ran forward and hugged Hermione when Lily introduced her; Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of the hug but awkwardly patted Cassandra on the back.  
  
Thankfully, Heidi, a tall fair-haired girl with a boyish frame, was not one for hugging strangers. She greeted Hermione with a quiet  _‘hello’._  
  
As Hermione expected, a stream of questions followed her introduction to the girls. She stayed true to the story that Dumbledore had given to her but the fact that she had supposedly been home-schooled her whole life only interested Lily, Cassandra, and Heidi further. They quickly jumped to the conclusion that Hermione should have been in Ravenclaw to which she responded with feigned confusion about the other Hogwarts houses. As she had hoped, this deflected the attention from her life before Hogwarts and the girls took it upon themselves to tell her everything they knew about Hogwarts; the staff, the lessons, the daily routines and such.   
  
By the time Hermione crawled under the covers in her new bed, it was pitch black outside and she was completely exhausted. With one final answer to a question from Cassandra about whether Hermione was looking forward to lessons tomorrow, Hermione finally fell asleep.  
  


* * *

  
  
The next morning Hermione woke to find someone (no doubt a house elf) had delivered a trunk full of everything she would need for her time at Hogwarts at the foot of her bed. Though she had never been the type of girl who had concerned herself with fashion, even she had to cringe slightly at the bell-bottomed muggle trousers provided for weekends and holidays. Thankfully, she would be spared of wearing them a little longer and dressed in her Hogwarts robes that were no different to the ones she was used to.  
  
Shortly after, Hermione entered the Great Hall and let the feelings of familiarity wash over her. It mattered not that she recognised only a few members of staff; the sounds and the smells and the feelings in the room were entirely unchanged.  
  
A small hand grabbed her elbow and Hermione turned to see Lily’s smiling face. “Come on, I’ll show you where we sit. This is Gryffindor’s table on the end here.”  
  
She guided Hermione to the table Hermione well knew as Gryffindor’s, sat down, and immediately began heaping baked beans on to both of their plates. Heidi and Cassandra soon joined them and the latter eyed Lily’s plate with frustration.  
  
“How can you eat that much food and still be so skinny, Lil? It’s so not fair,” she pouted.  
  
Lilly merely flashed Heidi a grin and began to eat the huge pile of food she had served to herself.  Hermione tucked into her smaller plateful, thankful that the food was up to the same high standards, but trying not to dwell on how it came to be there. Maybe she could use her time in the past to begin her S.P.E.W campaign early?  
  
“Excuse me, are you Hermione?”  a boys voice asked, pulling Hermione out of her reverie.  
  
She swallowed the bit of bacon in her mouth before replying. “Um, yes, I am,” she said, as she turned to face the boy.  
  
“Er, hi. Professor McGonagall asked me to give you this, it’s your timetable. She told me to introduce myself, I’m the other Gryffindor Prefect. Remus Lupin,” he said with a small smile.  
  
Hermione’s fork fell to the floor with a  _clang._  In all of the excitement of getting settled in her dorm and trying to see Lily as something more than  _Harry’s mum,_ she had completely forgot that there were other familiar faces she was yet to see.  
  
She studied the face of the boy in front of her carefully. His light brown hair was slightly messy, and his blue eyes twinkled but were dulled by the dark shadows beneath them. Yes, Hermione was definitely looking at a sixteen year old Remus Lupin. His forehead wrinkled more with each second she stared at him, and she finally found her words again.  
  
“Yes, you are. I mean-thank you. I’m Hermione,” she stammered, taking the parchment he held out for her.  
  
"Um, I know…” he mumbled.  
  
Hermione mentally kicked herself, of course he knew; he had just asked her that. Lily was now watching with mild interest, and thankfully realised that Hermione had gotten herself into an awkward situation.   
  
“Remus, are we on third floor patrol tonight or Thursday? I’ve lost my Prefect timetable,” she asked, diverting Lupin’s attention.  
  
“Tonight,” he confirmed. “It’s usually Thursday, but we swapped with the Ravenclaws’ because of their Quidditch practice, remember?”  
  
“Ah yes, of course. Thanks!” she grinned and returned to her breakfast.  
  
“MOONY!” a new voice yelled from the entranceway. Hermione sought the source of the noise and saw a black haired boy marching towards them. “Don’t let Prongs catch you talking to Evans, that’s a green-eyed monster you do  _not_ want to unleash.”  
  
Now that he was standing by the table, Hermione immediately knew who he was. His skin was still the same pale shade, but far less wrinkled than she knew it would eventually be. His dark hair was long and hung loosely around his face, framing his strong jaw. It was untidy but deliberately so, not unkempt because he could no longer be bothered to make the effort. He was young, smiling, and very much alive. His grey eyes met hers and Hermione couldn’t stop herself…  
  
“Oh my god, you’re-“ she began, but was interrupted.  
  
“Sirius Black,” he purred, “and we have  _definitely_  not met before.”   
  
  
   
 **A/N-Hello, lovely readers! I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. I'd love some feedback, particularly for Dumbledore- I feel like I just can't get him right... Thanks :D**


	5. Babbling Beverages

“This is Hermione Granger,” Lily said with barely a glance at Sirius, “she’s new and has no interest in snogging you in a broom cupboard.”

 

“Now, now, Evans, let the girl speak for herself,” Sirius quipped back. When Hermione said nothing, he continued, “You can speak, can’t you?” 

 

“What?” Hermione finally managed. “Oh, yes. Of course…” she stammered, her face turning a shade of red she that had only ever been seen on Ron’s ears.

 

To Hermione’s further embarrassment, Sirius plonked himself down in the empty space next to her, and then Remus sat next to him. Hermione averted her gaze and tried to feign interest in the plate of food set in front of her that she now had no interest in eating. Lily tutted loudly at the boys, but before Sirius could comment on her dissatisfaction, the post arrived.

  
A large tawny owl dropped a copy of The Daily Prophet in Cassandra’s cereal bowl, spraying her with milk. She yelped and shoved the bowl away from her in annoyance, and then proceeded to dry her robes with her wand.  
  
“Um, are you going to read that?” Hermione asked her.  
  
“Never do,” Cassadra replied, “my mum pays for it to try and encourage me to  _keep up with current affairs_ or something, but if the affairs don’t involve a Harpies beater and the bass player from the Weird Sisters, then I don’t want to know. Take it.”  
  
Hermione muttered a quick ‘Thanks’ and then dried the paper off with a spell of her own. A fresh wave of panic washed over her when she saw the date in the top corner of the page; she didn’t think she would ever get used to it being 1976. She was just reading about a new department opening up at the Ministry, when Lily emitted another tut followed by a loud sigh.  
  
The cause of her irritation was clear when Hermione looked up to see two boys taking places on the bench on the opposite side of the table to Sirius and Remus. Once again, Hermione couldn’t help but stare. Many times she had heard people telling Harry that he looked like his father, she herself had seen pictures that proved they weren’t wrong in telling him, but nothing prepared her for seeing James Potter in the flesh. Everything from the gangly posterior, to the messy hair and slightly lopsided smile was Harry. The only tiny detail that set her best friend apart from the boy opposite her pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice, were the hazel eyes he was staring at Lily with.  
  
“Prongs, you’re spilling your juice…” a timid voice mumbled, and Hermione looked at the second boy for the first time, though she already knew who it would be.  
  
It was hard for Hermione to believe that the nervous boy across the table from her would betray his friends and be a catalyst in their deaths. She watched as he gently removed the golden jug from James’ hand, pour himself a drink, and then set it down on the table. His small blue eyes darted up and down the table as he greedily eyed the breakfast options, eventually deciding on a large plate of sausages. He stared down at his plate as he shovelled food into his mouth, his floppy, sand-coloured hair falling forward and into his eyes as he did so.    
  
She watched him in fury, the desire to hex him overwhelming, outweighed only by the  _need_  to tell him friends what he would eventually do to them. If she was unlikely to ever return to her future, what was the harm in changing it? She could change the lives of so many: Lily, James, Sirius, _Harry._ A few words from her and Harry would grow up with his parents.  That is…if they believed her.  
  
 _Of course they wouldn’t!_ A wicked voice in her head told her. She knew it was right; why on earth would James, Sirius, and Remus turn on their friend of several years because of something a total stranger who claimed to know the future told them?  
  
“Hermione, are you coming?” Lily’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “We’ve got potions in five minutes.”  
  
Lily spent the walk down to the dungeons gushing to Hermione about how much of a wonderful teacher Professor Slughorn was. Hermione remembered Harry telling her that his mum had been one of Slughorn’s favourites in her day. Her mind still on Harry, Hermione let her talk all the way to the door without saying a word in response.  
  
“…I mean, yeah, some people think the Slug Club is stupid, and I did at first but Slughorn has promised to put me in touch with some really good connections at St Mungo’s when I leave, he thinks I’ve got the makings of a healing potions master.” She finally took a breath. “Anyway, I’m partnered with Remus this week, we’re making Babbling Beverages. I guess you should just wait for Professor Slughorn to find out who he wants you to work with?”  
  
Hermione nodded and remained by the Professor’s desk at the front of the room. Lily took her seat and dropped her backpack on the table. By the time she had unloaded her books, wand, and empty vials, the rest of the class had begun to filter in. Hermione watched as they each found their partners; with the exception of Sirius, who sat alone and threw rolled up bits of parchment at the back of Remus’ head.  
  
Professor Slughorn arrived soon after, and though he wasn’t bald as Hermione knew him to be in her time, and his moustache was strawberry blonde as opposed to silvery grey, there was no denying it was him. He squeezed his protruding belly behind his desk and sat in his chair which squeaked loudly in protest at the load.  
  
“Ah!” he exclaimed, seeing Hermione for the first time. “You must be Miss Granger, Professor Dumbledore told me all about you. Let’s find you a partner, shall we?”  
  


He scanned the room for the empty seats and Hermione cringed as she realised who she was about to be partnered with. “Black! It seems you won’t be working solo after all. Take a seat, Hermione, maybe you can stop Sirius from exploding his cauldron for the fourth lesson in a row.”

 

Sirius grinned widely. When Hermione took up the seat next to him, he whispered, “Totally exploded them on purpose. Last week, Lily got splashed with Deflating Draught, her tiny head shouting at me was  _hysterical_.”

 

With a wave of his wand, Slughorn had the potion ingredients and method appear on the board. There was a scraping of chairs and a rush of students made their way to the store cupboard. Sirius made no move to get his and Hermione’s ingredients, so she joined the group waiting at the cupboard door.

 

When she returned, she was pleased to see that Sirius had at least gotten his cauldron, and had started a fire underneath so that the water inside was bubbling gently. Hermione handed him a bunch of dandelion root to slice, while she carefully measured out the Flobberworm mucus.

 

She was just about to add it to the cauldron when Sirius elbowed her, causing the mucus to spill out of the beaker and down the side of the cauldron. “So, Granger. What’s your story?” he asked.

 

She glared at him in frustration. “My story? I just spent ages measuring seven equal drops of mucus and you spilled it!”

 

“It’s fine, look.” He picked up the bottle of mucus and poured a huge dollop into the cauldron, turning the solution a vile shade of green.

 

“It should be blue!” Hermione snapped at him. She vanished the potion and filled it with water once more.

 

“Wow, you nailed the non-verbal spells already? I’m impressed. Weren’t you home-schooled?” he eyed her carefully.

 

She avoided looking back at him by re-measuring the mucus as she spoke, “Um, yes. How did you know that?”

 

“News travels fast through the halls of Hogwarts. So how come you came here then? If you can do non-verbal spells already you must have had a pretty good teacher already.”

 

Hermione’s mind raced to think of a story. Why hadn’t she thought that people would ask her about this? “Er, well…my mum was teaching me but then she was offered a job with the Ministry so she wrote to Hogwarts to ask if I could join.”

 

She stole a glance at Sirius to see if he had accepted her story. Seeming satisfied, he pressed on with his interrogation whilst tipping the neatly sliced dandelion roots into the cauldron. “So just you? No brothers or sisters?”

 

Hermione stirred the potion six times clockwise, watching it turn the correct shade of turquoise before answering. “Nope, just me.”

 

“You’re lucky, I wish I was an only child,” Sirius mumbled bitterly, more to himself than Hermione.

 

“What…? Oh, of course, you and Regulus don’t get along, do you?” The words were out of her mouth before she’d even had time to process what she was saying. She clapped her hands over her mouth just as Sirius whipped his head around and stared at her.

 

“How do you know about Regulus?” he demanded.

 

For supposedly being the smartest witch of her age, Hermione was feeling extremely stupid at that moment. How was she supposed to know about Regulus when she had been at Hogwarts less than a day? She scanned the room frantically for inspiration.

 

“Lily!” she exclaimed suddenly. “Lily told me about him, we saw him on our way down here after breakfast.”

 

Sirius raised an eyebrow as though sceptical of her reasoning, but thankfully she was saved from any more questions by the arrival of Professor Slughorn, who approached them with a nervous expression. 

 

“Well, well, well,” he said, peering into their cauldron, “I think Hermione might just be a good influence on you, Sirius. Your Babbling Beverage looks perfect so far, keep it up! And  _no explosions._ ”

 

“Okay, Professor,” Sirius said sweetly. When Slughorn walked away, he added, “no promises, though.”

 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of wet-start fireworks. “Want to find out what happens if we put one of these into a Babbling Beverage?” he asked Hermione wickedly. 

 

“Absolutely not,” she replied. “Fireworks in potions never ends well, once my friend Harry-“ she stopped, just mentioning his name hurt.

 

“Your friend Harry…?” Sirius prompted.

 

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Old boyfriend?” Sirius asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Current boyfriend?” He was staring again.

 

“No!” The thought was almost laughable.

 

“Who is he then? Does he go to Hogwarts? What’s his surname?”

 

“It’s Pott…um, Potts. Harry Potts. And no, he doesn’t go here. Can we just get on? Pass me the lionfish spine please.” 

 

He did so, but continued to stare at Hermione as she weighed it and added it to their almost finished potion. She was incredibly relieved when the bell rang and they were asked to bottle and label their potion. Hermione grabbed her bag and their potion sample and rushed out of the classroom, pausing only to leave the bottle on the Professor’s desk.

 

She walked quickly to her next class, vowing not to speak to anyone from then on unless she absolutely had to. Keeping up her cover story was proving harder than she expected.


End file.
